


The Late Herbert West

by Absolutelybatty



Category: Herbert West - Reanimator - H. P. Lovecraft, Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: M/M, but not for long, herbert is mcdead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22473232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Absolutelybatty/pseuds/Absolutelybatty
Summary: This is a canon divergent story that takes place directly after the first Re-Animator. Nothing that is revealed in later movies is canonical here unless directly stated.Spoilers warningIts been three months since Herbert West's death in the Miskatonic Massacre and Dan is plagued by the uncertainty of whether or not he did all he could have. Eventually, his guilt leads him back to the hospital where it all happened and he makes a shocking discovery that gives him new hope.
Relationships: Daniel Cain & Herbert West, Daniel Cain/Herbert West
Comments: 5
Kudos: 100





	1. 1

In the three months since the Miskatonic Massacre, no one had come to claim Herbert West's body. Dan felt wretched that he hadn't gone back for him, instead electing to take his fiancée and run as soon as Meg had stopped screaming and convulsing from the pain of being born anew. Her re-animation was remarkable, one to rival Dr. Hill's. There was hardly any physical damage, only a bit of trouble with her crushed vocal cords.  
However, neither of them had escaped unscathed. Nearly every night, Meg would awaken in a terror, thrashing, and sobbing as Dan did his best to calm her nerves. He, in contrast, hardly slept at all anymore. The only thing that kept him moving was the new job he'd found at a hospital in their new town. It wasn't much but it was enough to pay the bills and, perhaps more importantly, keep his mind off of everything.  
He was often pulling overtime to pay rent for Meg and himself, Meg being unwilling to touch the estate her father left her. Dipping into any of her inheritance would force her to acknowledge that he was truly gone, which she simply wasn't ready to do.  
Dan understood to an extent but being the sole breadwinner was draining on him, leaving many things unaddressed.  
It wasn't long before they mutually, albeit painfully, decided their engagement should be put on indefinite hold. Neither was willing to admit it but the massacre weighed far heavier on their thoughts than they showed. Meg was understandably grieving her father, stopping at random times and simply breaking down. Despite trying to empathize, Dan found himself simply dumbfounded and unable to accept much of anything.  
His brain simply wouldn't accept the death of the brilliant Mr. Herbert West. Perhaps it was better that way, for now. Keeping himself occupied was far easier than confronting the awful truth.  
But eventually, it had to be addressed. Whilst watching Megan water a pot of flowers from her father's funeral, it hit him full force. Herbert hadn't been given any kind of service to his knowledge. And if he had, Dan should have been in the service. Instead, he'd run off with his fiancée to hide from his past. Guilt boiled in the pit of his stomach, nausea washing over him. He wanted so badly to turn back the clock and rescue Herbert in addition to Meg. In the darkest days, he wondered what it would have been like to rescue him instead of his now ex-fiancée. These thoughts made his face hot with shame but some small part of him acknowledged he may prefer an idealized version of Megan he could promote postmortem than the one he currently lived with. It wasn't that he didn't love her, per se, but it was entirely possible that he loved the idea of her more than who she was after the massacre. In a way, part of Meg never returned from the dead.  
Meg stood in their once shared room, gathering folding clothing into her suitcase. Dan wasn't entirely sure when it was discussed, but she was going to be returning to her late father's home rather than continue an awkward charade of normality with her former boyfriend. Dan pretended not to care that she was leaving. It was just another chapter in a long story of things going horribly awry for the young med student. Efforts were made to convince himself that it would be better for both of them to spend some time apart. Perhaps their relationship would be repairable once they had time to think. Unfortunately, he was unable to convince himself of any of that.  
“I'm all packed, Dan.” Meg's voice scattered his thoughts and he looked up from where he stood in their doorway. Something about being called Dan rather than Danny felt like another straw on a rather strained camel's back.  
“Are you ready to go, then?” he asked, “I can help you bring your things to the car.”  
Without waiting for an answer, Dan lifted two of her suitcases. He delivered her luggage to the back of his car, resisting swearing as he was reminded of how wretched the drive to Miskatonic would be. It was only about a 45-minute drive, but there was little to share small talk about when you're dropping the love of your life off to start her life without you.  
“I really can't thank you enough for the ride,” the blonde commented as she stowed her last bag into the back seat, “Maybe you can catch up with some of your friends from Miskatonic.”  
“Friends? I'll be lucky if they don't think I'm secretly the murderer.” He offered a smile to imply he was joking but it was painfully forced. Meg ignored the comment, slipping into the passenger's seat whilst Dan took the driver's.  
“Well, what do you plan to do in Arkham?” she prompted as the car growled to life. Truth be told, Dan hadn't planned on doing anything. He'd only expected to be a chauffeur and harbinger of awkward silences. But, if he was to be in Arkham anyway...  
“I'll probably find Herbert's grave,” he stated with the confidence of a man who hadn't just thought of it. A brief side glance was thrown to him by Meg as she seemed to look for a response that would be appropriate. With his eyes on the road ahead of them, it was easy for Dan to pretend he hadn't noticed.  
“I hadn't really.... considered,” she admitted after a moment. Dan had to bite his tongue, the desire to point out “you rarely do” just behind his teeth.  
“Herbert was my friend.” Dan pointed out, the term feeling odd in his mouth. Was Herbert his friend? They were unusually close, that was for certain, but he couldn't imagine the stout scientist calling anyone his friend. They'd only known each other for less than a week, and yet Dan felt that he and Herbert were something different than friends. Something more than that. Something he didn't know the word for.  
“ _Was_ he your friend?” Meg asked, coming off harsher than intended. His knuckles went white on the steering wheel, a lump forming in his throat.  
“I just mean, you barely-” she tried to back peddle, brushing a strand of hair from her face, but Dan cut her off.  
“He was my friend. Just because you didn't see it doesn't mean it isn't true.”  
***  
By the end of the drive, Dan wasn't entirely sure what he wanted. No ground was made in trying to convince Meg to stay with him, but he was starting to wonder if he actually wanted that or if he was just trying to find a companion. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he feared to be alone. It seemed like everyone was leaving him. First, his parents, taken from him in infancy. Then Rufus, whom he'd been more hurt about losing than he liked to admit. Herbert was in his life briefest of all but it still felt like when West died, he'd taken part of Dan with him. The only consolation was that none of them had chosen to leave. Meg, on the contrary, decided that she didn't want to be a part of his life anymore. There was no anger that he felt towards her, instead simply feeling bitter and defeated. He'd believed for so long that they were the ones meant to outlast everything else.  
And now she was leaving.  
Alone again, Dan looked up at the looming Miskatonic medical school. The building held so many memories, quite a few painful. Herbert's voice echoed in his head as he stepped into the lobby. His throat felt dry, heart thudding against his ribcage. No one else seemed perturbed. It was as it always had been before. But Dan couldn't shake off the fear he felt shooting down his spine. How could they act like it was normal? Seeing all these people around him with no concern felt surreal. They weren't there; they never saw what he had. With a breath to steady himself, he instinctively started towards the morgue, A hand caught him on the shoulder, startling him from his hypnosis.  
“Sir, you can't go- Cain?” the woman who had stopped him was none other than Dr. Harrod, her eyes wide behind her round glassed, “Cain, what are you doing here?”  
“D-doctor Harrod,” his voice cracked and he scrambled to regain his composure, “I'm-uh-here to ask Mace something.”  
“Honey, Mace retired after... well, the massacre.” his former teacher told him gently, “I never expected you to be back after everything.”  
“I didn't either,” he admitted, looking around the familiar setting.  
“What did you want to ask Mace? Or I can take you directly to the new security guard.” she offered. This was no small sentiment and Dan knew that. Dr. Harrod was always rushing about the understaffed hospital, never taking much of a break, so offering her time was something special.  
“I was hoping I could find out where Herbert West was buried.” Even saying it aloud, Dan struggled to comprehend that Herbert was really dead.  
Dr. Harrod's brow creased at this, her lips becoming a thin line, “Mr. Cain, no one ever came to claim Mr. West. He's still in the morgue.”  
Dan's stomach dropped at this, his mind filled with images of the incredible Mr. Herbert West decaying. Cain was far from squeamish but his stomach churned at the thought of this happening to because of him, “You all just left him to rot?”  
“You haven't heard.” the way Harrod spoke, it came across not as a question but as a fact, “Mr. West hasn't decayed. None of the bodies have.”  
***  
Dan wasn't sure he believed Dr. Harrod just telling him but seeing it was somehow more surreal. Most of the bodies had been claimed by family after the police let the case go cold so early. All that remained was Dr. Hill's head, the shotgun victim and, of course, Herbert West. Dan's breath caught in his throat when Dr. Harrod pulled the sheet covering Herbert's body down. The young scientist looked bizarre, having been stripped of his dignified button-up and dress pants. He was nude other than the sheet covering his navel down and his glasses were gone, making him look older. Down the center of his abdomen was the stitching of a Y incision. The edges of the incision were still fleshy pink, folding down upon itself in a way that was a bit uncomfortable to look directly at. There was no exaggeration. Herbert's body had not even entered rigor mortis, let alone begun to decay.  
“No other next of kin made any attempt to claim the body?” Dan asked finally. Dr. Harrod pursed her lips, squinting behind her glasses before she shook her head.  
“Daniel, you were a good student, on your way to being a good doctor. I always thought your only downfall was your unwillingness to give up.” She covered Herbert's body with the sheet again, Dan struggling to tear his eyes from it.  
“Dr. Harrod, what d-” he was cut off suddenly with a sharp edge to her tone.  
“Mr. Cain, I don't know what you did to save Ms. Halsey, but this isn't something you can fix!” she snapped, brow furrowed, “He's dead, Daniel. I need to know you understand that before I can relinquish the body to you for burial and funeral services.”  
“I know. He's gone.” Dan's voice was strained, his eyes watery as he did his best to repress the tears he didn't even know he had within him. Dr. Harrod looked him over, obviously considering something about Dan. The look on her face suggested she'd never truly looked at him before.”  
“Fine, but you'll have to sign some papers up front.” she decided, turning to leave and flipping the light switch. The dark room allowed him to observe a familiar neon glow amongst the shelves of evidence.  
Dan liked to think Herbert would be proud of him as he slipped the smallest bottle of reagent into his pocket.  
***  
There wasn't much of a service. Even if it was a charade, Dan felt a bit disappointed by the menial attendees. Meg, Dr. Harrod, Mace and Dan himself were the only ones there. There was no hiding that the only reason any of them attended was for Dan's sake. Pretending to mourn wasn't much of a task for him as he looked on at the empty casket in front of him. There was no acting needed when Dan did his best to stifle his encroaching tears. Acknowledging that there was a very good chance all of this was for nothing made Dan feel sick to his stomach. If he wasn't able to bring Herbert back... he simply didn't know what he would do. This obsession was his new driving force, keeping him motivated for something, anything.  
As the priest's script about death washed over them, Dan felt Megan slip her hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze. The gesture was bittersweet to him, tainted by the knowledge that he only had her companionship for the day. Something felt painfully artificial about this all. No one here truly cared for Herbert other than Dan. The thought that they were only here out of formality made him angry, but his anger wasn't directed at them, or the situation, or himself, or Herbert. He didn't know who he was angry at, but it boiled in the pit of his stomach.  
Without really noticing, the rest of the faux mourners filtered out over time, leaving Dan alone at a grave only he knew was unoccupied.  
“This has to work.” he told himself, turning from the coffin and blinking rapidly to hide his unshed tears, “It has to.”  
Dan barely remembered making it to his car, the adrenaline of his plan making everything else a pointless blur. The determination thrummed in his chest. He was going to save Herbert; he was going to right this wrong. And no one, god or man, was going to stop him.  
***  
Deja vu was perhaps the only way to describe what Dan felt when he stood over Herbert's body. This was so similar to the reanimation of their John Doe and of Dean Halsey, save for the new set of his kitchen. And yet, it felt so foreign. Herbert lay, appearing oh so vulnerable without his glasses, as Dan looked at the late scientist's notes. The fluorescent glow of reagent rose in the syringe. His throat felt tight, eyes bleary as he attempted to read the measurements. He couldn't risk this at all. No scatter shooting, no experimenting, no second chances. This was the greatest gamble of his life, and considering his previous felonies, that meant something.  
Rolling Herbert's head forward, Dan steadied the needle against the base of his skull. It took everything he had not to shake as the needle penetrated the skin and he pushed the plunger down. When the green liquid had gone, Dan sat up and checked his watch.  
5 seconds  
10 seconds  
15 seconds  
20 seconds  
Something should have happened by then. The young doctor felt his heart drop. How could he have been so stupid? Just because Herbert looked like he was alive by no means meant he could be reanimated.  
“Herbert... please.” his voice broke, tears hot behind his eyes, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”   
Dan rested his head in his hand, elbows on the table next to the body. A shudder passed through the body, barely perceivable to the grieving man. It wasn't until a guttural scream of pain broke through the air that Dan looked up.  
Herbert convulsed violently on the table, his pained cries spurring Dan to action. West thrashed his head back and forth, shaking bloody foam from the edges of his mouth.  
“Herbert? Oh, good lord, what have I done?” Dan's horror was sketched all over his face, unable to do anything but hold Herbert down against the table as he wailed.  
“Herbert, please! I can't fight you!” He shouted over him to be heard. Much to his surprise, the undead stopped resisting his restraints, instead just staring at him with wide, bloodshot eyes.  
“D....” Herbert choked on the sound, his mouth still lousy with slobber, “Da-a-an?”  
“Herbert?” Dan couldn't help himself and tears began to cascade down his cheeks, “It really worked.”  
“W....wa-a-a-ater,” Herbert begged of him, Dan was a bit surprised by the request.  
“Uh, sure thing.” he released his hold on Herbert who groaned, shifting so he could sit up before becoming painfully aware of his broken ribs.  
“Stay down.” Dan scolded, pulling a water bottle from the fridge. With shaking hands, Herbert took the water and gulped it down, almost choking himself.  
“W-what the hell happened?” He managed after a while, wiping his wrist against his mouth. Dan swallowed. Where to start?  
“You died.” Dan forced himself to state it.  
“I know I was there.” Herbert's response made Dan begin to reconsider why he'd wanted him back so badly.  
“I mean, how did you bring me back?” Herbert clarified, looking down at the y incision stitches down the center of his bare chest, “I was gone for.. a long time.”  
“You didn't decay. At all.” Dan explained, “Three months and you were fresh as you were when you died.”  
“It must have been the reagent.” He mused, stroking his own arms with nimble fingers as though to perceive his own brilliance.  
“I only just gave you any.” Dan pointed out, “And you didn't decay without it either.”  
Herbert cringed slightly, turning his head so that he didn't have to look at Dan. Dan hated it when he did this.  
“What the hell did you do?” his voice was stern, showing that he wasn't going to drop this.  
“I'd... administered some to myself in the past. As a test.” the shorter man fiddled with his fingers as he said it.  
“You shoot up with this shit?” Dan nearly yelled. West flinched at the harsh tone of his voice but when he looked back at him, Dan was holding back laughter, “West, I have no idea how you lived as long as you did.”  
“I'm a bit surprised you never guessed it before.”  
“Why would I? Oh, good heavens, is that why you never ate? Or slept?”  
Herbert turned away again, Dan barely resisting slamming his head into his hands.  
“Ohhhhhhh, Herbert, you're going to be the death of me.” Dan groaned.  
Herbert laced his fingers over his abdomen, squinting up at him, “What happened to my glasses?”  
“Hell if I know. We can get you some new ones.” Dan shook his head, “and are you going to question why you're naked?”  
“I was a cadaver not long ago. I just hoped you'd have thought to acquire glasses first.”  
“We should get you some clothes.” Dan straightened up, cracking his back, “You can wear some of mine.”  
***  
Dan knew he was larger than Herbert by a considerable amount but he hadn't realized how much. After helping Herbert into some of his smaller clothing, he stepped back to look him over. Herbert sat on the table, wearing a flannel of Dan's unbuttoned over his torso to let the stitches breathe and avoid friction irritation. Other than that was a pair of Dan's briefs, pooling around his slender legs. It was oddly reminiscent of the girls Dan had bed wandering about the house in his clothing the next day. The thought made heat linger in his cheeks.  
Herbert was quick to notice, “Something wrong, Dan?”  
“It's weird.” Dan blurted out, “Seeing you. Alive.”  
“You've seen me alive before.” Herbert gave a crooked smile that he rarely shared with anyone other than Dan.  
“You know what I mean.” he took a seat at the table, “But that brings me to something we should discuss.”  
Herbert arched an eyebrow, his green eyes inquisitive.  
“You can't keep relying on the reagent.” Dan looked for his reaction, unsurprised to find West looking indignant.  
“I'm not a child!” Herbert retaliated, “I will take care of myself as I see fit.”  
“Herb-”  
“And don't call me that. I'm not a damned spice.”  
Dan felt his impatience peak, “Fine, Herbie, but the reagent is not up for debate.”  
The nickname was a cheap shot at getting under Herbert's skin but judging by how quickly his ears turned pink, Dan felt it worked.  
“And tell me, _Danny_ , why I should stop?” Herbert's attempt at a retort left Dan unaffected as he had called him Danny in the past.  
“Are you kidding?” Dan asked, “Look at you!” he slipped his hand under the edge of his open flannel, placing his palm against Herbert's ribs which stood obvious against his skin. The contact made Herbert fall silent, unable to articulate a response. Dan's hand was so warm in contrast to Herbert's icy flesh. It could be from the low blood flow of having just been reanimated, but Dan suspected he was always this cold. It only fits too well with Herbert's bizarre persona.  
“Dan..” Herbert searched for something to say, biting his lips as he looked at his savior and colleague.  
“Just stop experimenting on yourself.” Dan pulled his hand from his ribs, skin tingling where they had connected, “I can't lose you again.”  
Herbert nodded numbly, his eyes wide and curious as ever. Dan had never seen Herbert so flabbergasted.  
“Dan?” He managed finally, his voice wavering.  
“Yes?”  
“Thank you.”


	2. 2

It was surprising how easily Herbert and Dan had gotten used to their odd situation. Dan had gone to the store and purchased Herbert his standard white button-up and black slacks along with a new pair of glasses. The most difficult part was working Herbert off of his dependency on the reagent. He was miserable, almost entirely bedridden, for the first week. Dan felt like he had to force-feed the petite man, bringing plates of toast to his bedside regularly. 

With Herbert's cracked ribs, it was only reasonable that he be allowed to sleep in the king's size bed, inadvertently forcing Dan to sleep on the couch. He didn't mind too much, seeing as how sleeping in the living room allowed him to be lulled to sleep by reruns of Star Trek with the volume turned nearly off. It wasn't even discussed until one night that he was awakened by the gentle padding of Herbert's bare feet as he made his way into the living room. Dan squinted up at him in the darkness, the small scientist coming into focus gradually as his eyes adjusted.

“Herbert?” Dan croaked, sitting up. Herbert startled as if he hadn't expected Dan to be there. It was already an odd sight to see him walking again, made only stranger by the fact he stood in a pair of Dan's briefs and one of his  _ Talking Heads  _ shirts hanging loosely around his thin frame.

“Dan, I didn't mean to wake you... what are you doing asleep on the couch?” Herbert inquired, turning on the lamp on the side table.

Dan hissed at the sudden light, scrunching up his eyes, “Where else would I sleep?”

“I assumed you had more than the one room,” he admitted, looking around.

“How are you so smart and yet so, so stupid?” Dan asked, sitting up and rubbing his burning eyes, “I can't exactly afford a big house.”

“I'm sure the money Dr. Gruber left me would be sufficient.” Herbert decided, sitting at Dan's feet, “But that has to wait until tomorrow. Come on, Dan, you shouldn't sleep on the couch. It's awful on your back and your job performance will suffer from the inadequate sleep.”

“Oh, and I suppose you're going to put me up in a five-star hotel while you're barely mobile from withdrawals?” Dan's voice was spiked with sarcasm.

“Daniel, it's a large enough bed for both of us.” 

Dan wasn't sure what he meant at first but with realization came humiliation, "Herbert, I'm  _ not _ sharing a bed with you."

"And why not, Dan? You've never seemed to mind sharing a bed with any floozy you meet." Herbert's retort hit Dan harder than intended, the larger man having to bite his lip.

"That's different. Those were women." Dan tried desperately not to let his frustration get the best of him. There was a legitimate chance that Herbert simply didn't understand this. He was fairly certain Herbert had never so much as kissed a girl.

"I-" he started but Dan cut him off again.

" _ No _ , Herbert. I'm not- this is stupid. I'm fine on the couch." This was followed by silence for a bit, West's face unreadable. 

"Go back to bed-" Dan rolled back over, pulling his blanket over his shoulders but was interrupted once more.

"I awoke because I was searching for you," Herbert admitted, his eyes unwavering as the bore into Dan.

"Looking for me? It's the middle of the night." Despite himself, Cain sat up to look at Herbert, meeting his gaze. 

"I'm scared." His voice cracked, his composure crumbling around him, "Dan, I'm scared. I can't sleep. I keep dreaming… wretched things. Things no living man should know. I can't sleep and I was left with no choice but to.. to seek comfort."

Dan watched him, the realization washing over his face, "Herbie, I didn't even think…"

"And now you'll treat me like a child." Herbert smiled wryly, "I don't want to be coddled, Dan. I simply needed to remember I'm no longer… trapped."

Wanting to comfort him, Dan stood and approached his side, "You shouldn't be out of bed. You're going to make yourself sick. Or sicker than you already are." Despite his instinct to shrink away, West allowed himself to be guided back to the bedroom. His breathing was shallow, labored by the cracked ribs. Desperately, he wanted to fill his veins with a solution to the pain, but with Dan's watchful eye, it wasn't possible. The larger man sat on the foot of the bed before Herbert sat at the head of it.

"I get it," Dan murmured softly. On instinct, West was about to correct him. He couldn't  _ possibly _ understand. But the way Dan held himself, shoulders hunched and eyes distant indicated he actually may.

"It's different." Herbert looked away from him, unable to cope with his sorrowful expression, " _ You  _ survived the massacre. I didn't."

"I still lost a lot that day." Dan bit back. 

"It was your choice to leave Miskatonic. Everything you ' _ lost _ ' was voluntary." West argued, holding himself in a way akin to a frightened child, "I was..gone. How can you pretend to understand that?"

"Because I lost  _ you _ , Herbert!" His voice was on the cusp of a shout, silencing any other argument Herbert could have generated. He swallowed hard, eyes tinged with tears. Silence hung thick in the air, neither willing to dare break it. Had it not been for Herbert's labored breathing, there was no telling how long the silence would last.

"The bandages for your ribs are restricting your breathing." The observation was welcome, bringing the conversation down from its teetering peak. Dan turned towards him, ghosting his hand over the injured skin as he contemplated what to do. 

"I'm going to remove the brace," Dan warned, fingertips brushing beneath the edge of the bandages. Herbert nodded his permission and heaved a deep sigh when the pressure on his chest was released.

"Do you want more pain medicine?" He barely got the offer out before Herbert nodded eagerly. The pills weren't as strong as his reagent but they were enough. Though Herbert would never admit it, he was thankful Dan had interfered. The reagent wasn't a fix-all as he oft treated it. Sooner or later, time would catch up with West and he would be forced to endure his punishment. 

But for now? The drowsiness of the pain medicine was beginning to set in. Setting his glasses aside, Herbert sunk back into the bed.

"Dan?" His voice was hardly more than a whisper.

"Yeah?" Dan turned his attention to the now smiling scientist.

"Ah… I've forgotten." Herbert responded earnestly. Dan resisted laughing. What a queer man. 

"Tell me if you remember, okay?"

"I'll tell you everything." He yawned, "I promise."

With this ludicrous promise, Herbert closed his eyes and let his guard down for the first time in a long, long time. 


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some mention of internalized homophobia in this chapter but it's brief and quickly resolved.

Dan wasn't sure when, but at some point, he must have dozed off whilst talking to Herbert. The next morning, he awoke at the foot of his bed, looking up to Herbert who was asleep with his arms folded across his chest. Without the intense gaze he always wore, West looked almost peaceful. The stress lines that accented his features had seemingly melted away and he seemed more content than Dan had ever seen before. 

Dan stood from the bed, placing his hands against the small of his back and arching until he heard a satisfying pop. The morning sun was already peaking through his blinds, casting stripes of pale yellow light across the bed and still sleeping Herbert. A peaceful morning like this one would have seemed so far from Cain's grasp just a week ago. And yet, he stood there in the borderline idealistic setting and allowed himself a slight smile. He could have admired the situation there all day if it weren’t for his stomach growling; demanding attention. 

Heading into the kitchen, Dan’s mind was still processing  _ something  _ he couldn’t quite place. It was something akin to memory, but so faint it may as well have been a dream. Like a scent he caught but couldn’t place what it reminded him of. He worked almost robotically as he poured two bowls of cereal, trying to diagnose the little twist in the pit of his stomach. The feeling was so familiar and yet entirely new. He filled the bowls, one with whole milk and the other skim, before returning to Herbert’s sleeping form. With both bowls on the side table, Cain gently rocked his roommate’s arm.

“Herb, I made you some cereal.” his voice was a soft, whispery sound, and yet it still roused Herbert from his sleep. His green eyes were bleary with drowse, blinking a few times as he patted around on the opposite side table for his glasses but was unable to find them. Dan pressed his lips shut to keep himself from smiling at his fumbling, half-asleep movements. 

“Here,” he reached over, grabbing the glasses and unfolding them to place them delicately onto West’s upturned nose. 

“Thank you, Daniel.” Herbert croaked, his voice still muffled by sleep. He sat up in the bed, running his hand over the back of his neck, “You said you brought cereal?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Dan turned to grab the bowl, sloshing the milk as he handed it over, “Whole milk, just like you requested.”

A slight smile crossed his face as he took the breakfast and muttered his thanks. Dan seated himself at the edge of the bed and began to eat his own cereal, unable to ignore Herbert’s tousled bed head. There was something so painfully human about seeing him that way when the smaller man usually put so much effort into coming across as something more than a mere mortal. Then again, did he truly classify as a human, let alone a  _ mortal  _ after he had returned from his own death? Dan couldn’t really say without looking far deeper into this than he cared to on a sleepy Sunday morning. 

Herbert had noticed his unfocused staring, “Is something wrong, Dan?”

Dan blinked, banishing his considerations, “No, just... thinking.”

“Thinking? Do share, then.” West took this answer with some curiosity as he continued to enjoy his sugary breakfast.

“Well,” Dan weighed his words on his tongue before letting them past his lips, “What  _ are  _ you?”

Herbert froze up entirely, his eyes a bit wide and the slightest tinge of colour on his usually porcelain skin, “Excuse me? What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, when does someone stop being human, mortal even?” Dan was worried he’d offended him but as soon as he explained, the tension evaporated from his presence: jaw unclenching, shoulders drooping and eyes losing their frightened glint. 

“I suppose that’s a good question. I would consider myself just as human as anyone else who is saved by science. Is someone who awakens after CPR less human? If not, then why would I be?”

“That’s a little different.” Dan chuckled.

“Perhaps a bit,” Herbert shrugged, taking another spoonful to his mouth and not bothering to swallow before he spoke, “But that’s a debate more fit for philosophers than scientists.”

Dan mused this a bit, turning his eyes to the window as he felt that familiar twist in his stomach again. Herbert shifted, setting the now-empty bowl aside and stretching to the point his navel was exposed. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I should go shower,” Herbert announced as he stood from the bed and made his way from the bedroom. It wasn’t until after he had left that Dan began to feel recognition for the suspicious feeling. In a way, it was entirely new but in another, it was wretchedly familiar. The bittersweet longing, adoration, and eagerness to please Herbert was reminiscent of the way he’d felt for Meg. There was so much different and yet it felt like just another side of the same coin. Dread settled in the pit of Dan’s stomach as this realization washed over him. His relationship with Herbert had never been strictly professional but this? This was something that he knew couldn’t be admitted. He would hardly admit it to himself. 

***

Dan kept catching himself refusing to meet Herbert’s eye when they spoke. Unfortunately, Herbert caught it as well. It was far too easy for Herbert to conclude that Dan was upset with him and there was hardly much of a leap for him to believe he knew why. During their conversation nearing a week prior, when Dan asked him what he was, Herbert had clammed up entirely. Despite his best attempts to remain casual, the young scientist had gone entirely ridged and was certain his face was flushed with humiliation. There was no way he could have known Dan’s inquiry was about his remaining humanity. If only he’d kept his composure, then Dan never would have figured out that Herbert was hiding a rather large part of himself. 

Dan, of course, had no idea in reality. His aversion to eye contact was born entirely from his unwillingness to accept any attraction to his colleague. Shame rose in his throat each time he so much as considered it. There was no chance that an intelligent man like Herbert would ever be willing to deal with someone like  _ that _ . At least, that’s what Dan thought. Unfortunately, Herbert thought the same way. He knew Dan would likely figure out his secret at some point, with the fact he never brought women over as his colleague did. But now that it had happened, he felt only dread. Perhaps he should confront Dan directly and confess. There was no use hiding any longer, it seemed obvious that he already knew. 

Dan had only just returned from work, pushing bodies around nearly all day with a few breaks to down a styrofoam cup of weak coffee. Strangely, he was beginning to prefer it to staying home. Since his revelation a week prior, Dan felt shame choke him nearly every time he would see his roommate and be reminded of his uncouth thoughts. His feet barely passed the threshold when he was accosted by Herbert. The smaller man had somehow become paler, his skin a sickly tone and his forehead shimmering with sweat. Despite the obvious effort, Herbert had dressed in his white button-down and black slacks.

“Where do you think you’re going, Herbert?” Dan demanded, trying to mask his concern with a harsh pitch to his voice, “You look like you’re half dead. Get back to bed and rest, damn you!”

“I will not be given orders.” Herbert’s voice wavered in a way Dan had never heard before and that alone made his resolution crumble, “We need to talk.”

A tightness seized Dan’s chest, making it hard for him to breathe. 

_ ‘We need to talk’  _ rarely led to anything good. 

Herbert continued without giving Dan much of a choice, “Daniel, I’ve noticed your…,” his voice was strained like every word was being forced violently from his throat, “reluctance to so much as look at me. I understand that you likely find me… somewhat appalling regardless of this but I need you to hear this from me. Daniel…. I-I’m queer.”

Dan’s mind was blank for a moment, considering the statement. Naturally, he knew Herbert was queer in one way: rather strange. But after a moment of seeing how intense his green eyes were behind his lenses, Dan realized that was not his meaning. 

“Wait, like, a gay?” Cain was unable to keep himself from sounding dumbfounded, which Herbert could only take as a bad sign.

“I-I assumed you had… caught on.” Herbert admitted, looking to his dress shoes, “I assumed that was why you would not treat me the same anymore.”

Dan ran a hand through his own hair, barely holding back a laugh that would have surely hurt the already vulnerable Herbert. 

“I never would have guessed,” Dan admitted, even though, in hindsight, it wasn’t incredibly surprising.

“Then you weren’t upset with me?” Herbert arched an eyebrow, the inquisitive glint Dan loved so much in his eyes. 

“No, no, of course not,” he assured him quickly, a breezy laugh leaving his throat, “I don’t mind that you’re… you know.”

“Then I really should be asking why have you treated me so oddly recently? Are you hiding something, Dan?” Herbert took a single step forward, tilting his head ever so slightly as his gaze bore into Dan’s poker face. 

“I’ve just been…” Dan chewed his lip, “stressed with work. It’s hard, you know? Keeping up around the hospital.”

Herbert’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t press any further. This answer had far from satisfied him but he knew that he couldn’t force the truth from him. Not yet, at least. 

“Fine, then. If you’re so tired, allow me to make dinner tonight.” Herbert offered but Dan shook his head.

“No way. You look like you’re a step away from death. Sit down and I’ll heat up some leftovers. Or we can order a pizza.” Dan offered, walking to the kitchen to grab the kitchen phone. 

“I didn’t expect you to be so… casual.” West admitted as he sat on the couch, “I half expected you to throw me out.”

“C’mon, Herb, I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I really detest being called Herb.” he reminded Dan, “But I suppose you’re right. I shouldn’t have assumed something so extreme.”

“I wish you’d trust me.” Dan confessed, “I would never hurt you. You’re all I have left.” Neither of them really knew what to do or say. Dan wished briefly that he could retract the raw statement. 

“Daniel, I trust you more than you’d ever know,” Herbert assured him, despite how difficult he found it to voice his emotions. Something about Herbert’s willingness to be vulnerable gave Dan hope that perhaps he could share his secret too. 

But not now, not today. Today he would simply be thankful to have Herbert as a friend again. There was hardly any more he could ask. 


	4. 4

It didn’t take long for a routine to be put in place. Each evening, Dan returned home to cook dinner whilst Herbert read on the couch. With his increasing health and mobility, West would often stand at his side and receive instruction on cooking. Dinner was spent in front of the television, watching Star Trek reruns until one of two would decide it was time to retire to their room (shared only out of necessity, of course).  
This is not to say that there were only vital rituals like eating or sleeping that they did together. Once a week or so, the young doctor would come home with a new textbook for West to pour over inhumanely fast. Other times, Dan would rent a movie that he enjoyed and his roommate seemed to enjoy for no reason other than critiquing. Banter was exchanged in the form of a light-hearted argument which always had the same conclusion: not everything has to make sense; some things are meant only for enjoyment. Unsurprisingly, Herbert was not a fan of this explanation but could never seem to conjure a satisfactory rebuttal. In Dan’s eyes, he had won.  
There didn’t seem to be a genre of fiction that Herbert truly enjoyed for anything other than providing his biting commentary. Dan could only bring home so many documentaries before it felt his workday in the hospital was plaguing even the media he consumed. But Herbert was unyielding in his belief the only valuable film was for knowledge sake.  
“Hell, Herb, don’t you enjoy anything else?” Dan burst one day as Herbert made a stir about Dan bringing home a copy of Back To The Future (a movie he had wanted to see but was far too busy when it was in theaters) rather than another autopsy tape or medical documentary.  
“What does that mean?” the smaller man’s voice was indignant and his jaw set in the same stiff expression it held in Dr. Hill’s class.  
“I mean.. all you do is study! You don’t take a break! You occasionally tolerate an episode of Star Trek when I sit to watch it.” the urge to throw his hands into the air from exasperation was surprisingly strong, yet Dan resisted anyway, “You don’t enjoy anything!”  
“I do!” Herbert took a defiant step forward, tilting his head back so he could glare down his nose at Dan.  
“Prove it.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Name one thing you enjoy that isn’t studying.” Dan challenged, “A book, a movie, a game, anything.”  
Herbert’s already taut brow knit together as he seemed to consider. There’s a chance he wouldn’t have answered if it weren’t for Dan’s smirk feeling like a direct jab at his pride.  
“I… enjoy books.” He cleared his throat, “I am a person.”  
“What books, Herbert?” Dan seemed to get an inordinate amount of amusement from watching his colleague try desperately not to lose his composure.  
“The Modern Prometheus!” Herbert nearly spat the title, “It was my favourite book as a child! It… it inspired me to study science.”  
Unsure what he’d been expecting, Dan visibly retreated a bit, “Like... Frankenstein?”  
A meek nod was all he received in response, his moss coloured eyes downcast behind his glasses. Dan wasn’t sure what he’d done to damper his anger into such a melancholy state but it shocked him into silence. After a moment, Herbert met his eyes again and Dan realized in the warmth to his cheeks that he wasn’t distressed, he was embarrassed.  
“I know, it is a silly reason. But it was like.. it was like I had found someone like me.” Herbert confessed in a low tone, “I saw myself in Victor Frankenstein, and perhaps somewhat in his monster. I knew I could do better. I was obsessed. I was determined but, most of all, I was inspired. This fictional man without so much as a medical degree was enough to motivate me into striving for my reagent.”  
“That’s….” Dan mentally considered a few terms: adorable, genius, funny, “not as surprising as it should be.”  
“Not surprising?” West arched an eyebrow, making Dan mentally kick himself for such an odd reply.  
“About Victor, I mean.” Cain volunteered, covering his previous comment, “He’s a lot like you. But... What do you mean when you say you saw yourself in the monster?”  
Herbert seemed to accept this as truly what Dan had meant but was still hesitant to continue the discussion. His lips pressed to a thin line, tension drawing his brow together again. Dan decided it was in his best interest to not pry but after a moment, the impossible happened.  
Herbert opened up.  
“I suppose it may not be obvious to others.” He seemed to direct his attention to the now-forgotten Back To The Future tape lying on the table before looking back up at Dan with wide and curious eyes, “Have you read it, Danny?”  
Dan’s chest seemed to tighten at the nickname but he ignored the bittersweet sensation and simply answered, “Yeah, but not since high school.”  
“There’s something different about the monster. Something that’s been horribly lost in any adaptations that people have tried to make.” Herbert elaborated, “Do you remember the way he spoke?”  
“Somewhat?” Dan lied. He hadn’t paid much attention to the book. It was hilarious in hindsight, but the story used to frighten him and much of it had been voluntarily blocked from his memory for this very reason.  
“There is none of that… that ridiculous grunting and nonsense in the book.” West settled against Dan in a way that made his pulse pick up more than he would want to admit.  
“I’m still not sure how this relates to you.” Dan pressed gently.  
“In the book… it’s been so long but I remember so well,” His eyes became distant as he recalled the scene, “The monster has lived outside of a cabin of people whom he studies and learns from without their knowledge. He learns from them how to speak and read, amongst other things. When he relays this to Frankenstein, his creator, he references Paradise Lost, one of the books he read within the peasants’ home.”  
The smaller man turned his gaze up to Dan as if waiting for him to fill in the blanks, but Dan simply nodded encouragement and Herbert continued.  
“The monster tells him ‘I ought by thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel’.”  
Neither spoke after the quote was finished. The words seeped into Dan’s brain, bouncing around for a connection that could be definitively made, but all he could do was assume. Assume that Herbert felt he was akin to the monster in this way, a feeling of inadequacy to, or abandonment from, one’s creator. But who was Herbert’s creator, in his mind? God? His father? Himself, even?  
When he seemed to come back into focus on Herbert, Dan was surprised that his face was not tense as it often was. Instead his features were far more relaxed than Dan really ever saw from his. Admitting his feelings of inadequacy, even in a very complex and uniquely Herbert West way, had been cathartic for him. Without truly considering it, Cain eased Herbert to relax against him, his ear now posed above the other’s heart. The room was silent, but not in an unpleasant way this time. This silence was one of contentment and mutual understanding. Understanding on a level neither were entirely sure how to describe, but understanding nonetheless.  
“I could get you a copy.” Dan offered after a bit, his tone soft out of fear he may seem mocking.  
“I had one… before everything happened.” West’s voice was measured, betraying the fact he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to let on.  
“You did?” This was a simple question but it made it obvious that Dan didn’t intend to settle for the bare minimum information he usually received.  
“It was falling apart at the seams.” with the seeming approval to speak freely, Herbert began, “The spine was broken, the pages yellowed and some were torn. I did my best to keep it in good shape, but time was not kind to my possessions. Dr. Gruber saw me reading it one day when I was done working. I felt silly, reading a book as fantastical as that, but he didn’t seem to find it funny or odd. He simply relayed to me that he enjoyed it as well.”  
“You two were close,” Dan observed, placing his hand over Herbert’s. He felt the smaller man stiffen a bit at his touch but Herbert did not attempt to pull away.  
“Closer than family. Dr. Gruber was like a father to me, only better than any father I had ever met.” West’s eyes drooped, be it with fatigue or sorrow, Dan was unsure.  
“Do you have any regrets?” Cain ventured, taking Herbert’s hand entirely into his own.  
“Some.” his response was curt, a bit sharp, but then he expelled a long sigh, “I wish I had told him that he was like my father before. He knew it, but I believe saying it is something that could have changed things. I always felt it was unnecessary to reveal how I felt, rationalizing that it would cause more harm than good. But now? Now, I almost wish I had taken the leap of faith. Simply to have told Dr. Gruber that he was akin to the father that I was neglected in my youth before he was on death’s doorstep. Confessions made on deathbeds are often the most sincere, but deathbeds mean there’s no room for the confessions to shape your world.”  
“You really think that?” there was a bit of a quiver to Dan’s voice that he hadn’t expected.  
“I do.” Herbert nodded, turning his head away to not meet Dan’s eyes.  
“Well?” Dan questioned, painfully aware of how loudly his own pulse drummed in his ears.  
“You have a secret, Daniel.” his green eyes turned up to him, “You can’t shift this to me when you’re hiding away as well.”  
The accusation made his throat tighten, jaw clenching to keep himself from making a mistake. All the conversation about honesty buzzed in his mind and the warmth of Herbert’s weight on his chest made him realize this was the closest to a perfect moment he would have.  
“Herb.” Dan’s mouth felt dry, something he failed to rectify with swallowing then licking his lips, “Are you sure you want to hear this?”  
“Do you want me to hear this?” There was that awful playful glint in his eye again. Herbert was toying with him. But with the two so close, Dan could feel how tense he was and nearly hear his heart pounding as hard as his own.  
“Herb, I love you.” The words hung in the air, both silent for a few agonizing heartbeats between the two.  
“I knew you did.” Herbert gave the slightest hint of his wicked smirk, Dan’s anxieties melting away when he did.  
“Dammit, Herbert, this teasing is going to kill me.” Dan groaned despite his initial relief, “Do you like me or not?”  
“Do you think we’re in grade school?” Dan realized that Herbert was stalling from answering, his mysterious facade beginning to wilt under the surprising seriousness of the confession.  
“Herb, I-” before the apology had left his mouth, Herbert had turned his fearful emerald eyes up towards him and made him fall silent.  
“If you’re asking… if I feel the same, that is, then the answer is yes.” His voice was as even and smooth as ever but his words were jumbled.  
“You don’t have to say it,” Dan assured him softly. After all, he was more used to saying it than he imagined Herbert was, “I wouldn’t make you.”  
The relief was obvious from the way West’s shoulders sank, a small smile on his face now. This was a new chapter of his life, and somehow, he feared it more than the reanimated.


End file.
